


There's Not Much Left

by odietamo53



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, Cunnilingus, Emotional Sex, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:08:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24084109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odietamo53/pseuds/odietamo53
Summary: Cassian is done with Nesta hurting everyone who loves her. And he's ready to tell her, no matter how much it destroys them both.
Relationships: Nesta Archeron & Cassian, Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Comments: 2
Kudos: 94





	There's Not Much Left

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is. A mess. I went into it expecting to write relatively straightforward Nessian smut and what fell out was this complete mess of emotions. Cassian says a lot of things that aren't very nice. Nesta needs to hear most of them. I apologize.

His hands curled into tight fists before he shot off into the sky, cold air burning against his cheeks and he tilted his face into it. Cassian landed on his rooftop with a grunt, knees buckling. He let himself fall, his knuckles scraping the stone wall to his side hard enough to draw blood and he curses once. 

His sweeping plans for the night were ruined. Nesta seemed to have a knack for completely fucking up whatever ideas he has mapped out for softening her towards him, along with any back up plans. What’s really shredding his nerves is the way she does it. Her old scathing words and cutting remarks had been endearing in some strange, fascinating way. Cassian had looked forward to a sharp tongue lasing simply for opening his mouth. He chuckles bitterly at the no so distant memories. But now she’s drunk. She’s off her ass and gagging for half the dicks in Velaris and there’s no spark left, fire guttered under sweaty bodies and mediocre liquor. 

Cassian slams the bedroom door behind himself, kicking over the chair draped with his everyday leathers. He’d gone to the party at Feyre and Rhys’ townhouse in a finely tailored suit, not quite expecting her to show but ready to impress just in case she did. She hadn’t spared him a glance until he’d run after her in the street. Loyal dog. Stupid kicked puppy. 

He often lectured recruits about taking out their anger on inanimate objects, specifically scolding over the destruction of personal goods for the sake of blowing off steam. But he’s flicked a small bowl off his dresser and watched it smash dramatically against the wall, fragments flying back at him with the force of the throw. Doesn’t feel any better for it. Shame curls in his gut, settling alongside the fear that he’d never again feel that fierce, protective body curl around his, lost everything the moment they’d won the war. 

Wetness streaks down his cheeks and he sits heavily in the middle of the floor. Cassian feels like he should hide his tears, angry at himself for crying over something that was never his at all, not really. But he hasn’t allowed himself this moment of weakness, curling into his sob racked body so he can ride out the clenching in his throat and lungs. Till he’s hoarse from the tears and can’t crack his eyes open to see if the sun has risen. 

Cassian let’s his head come to rest on the smooth wooden floor. His eyes glaze over and lips part to allow harsh breaths in and out, in and out, in and out. 

\--

“Vomit outside the training ring, I don’t want to clean up before we finish.” 

“If I vomit, we are finished.” Feyre’s face is tinged green and Cassian feels a little bad for her as they exchange warm up punches. They hadn’t been at it for long, but last night’s festivities were clearly weighing heavier on Feyre’s stomach than they were Cassian’s. 

He gives her a swift shove backwards, impressed she keeps her feet even as her eyes flutter slightly. “You chose to show up for training.” 

“And I’ve regretted every second of it.”

“You wound me,” Cassian smirks, sweeping her legs tidily out from under her. Feyre hits the ground amid a small cloud of dust. He watches with a quirked brow as she crawls to the edge of the ring, spills her stomach in the scrubby grass, stands, and strides away, flipping a crude gesture his way as she disappears around the bend. 

Cassian retrieves his discarded shirt and strides from the training area. The streets are filled with revelers, basking in the bright winter sun and festive spirit. He lets a small smile quirk his lips. He rarely takes the time to explore Velaris and its wonders, so he settles on spending the time he would have been training Feyre on a long, leisurely walk. 

So used to seeing the city from the sky, Cassian lets a hand run along the stone walls, inhaling the scent of pine and snow, peering into shopfronts. Pride swells in his chest at the strength of this city. Quick to begin rebuilding after tragedy and deeply devoted to all its citizens. 

All the sunlight and contentment flees him when he passes the wine and liquor merchants and spies Nesta, handing over the envelope she’d received from Feyre the night before to the cashier. She gathers a large brown bag to her chest and exits the store. 

He doesn’t know what he expects. But Nesta locking eyes with him briefly then sweeping off in the opposite direction is not it. 

His feet are moving of their own accord. He’s not even a full step behind her when she glances over her shoulder and frowns but doesn’t bother to speak. He reaches out and grabs her arm, whipping her around to face him and hates himself for it almost immediately. “Nesta, wait,” he says as she spins on her heel and resumes her path, anger tinging her cheeks pink. 

His voice takes on a sad, needy quality as he say, “Nesta, talk to me.”

“Not here,” she snaps, back straightening as her steps come faster. 

\--

He doesn’t think in the split second it takes him to slap the bottle out of her hand. It hits the floor in a shower of glass and the smell burns his nostrils. He does, however, briefly entertain the thought that she might drop to her knees before him and begin licking the spilled liquid off the front of his pants, where a large amount of it has splashed and rolls down the waterproofed material. He waits for the outburst of anger, is on solid footing with that. But her bottom lip wobbles and he can’t cope. Doesn’t know what he’d do if she started crying, broke down in front of him. 

So he goads her. Knows he should be ashamed, kicking another while they’re down, but he can’t face the tears that may come if he doesn’t. Cassian gestures down, pointing lazily at the liquid puddling on the floor. “Still want that drink Nesta?” 

Her slap comes quick and heated. She’d not been into the bottle yet today or she never would have landed it without him catching on. Or maybe he’s too distracted with deciding whether he can face attempting to make eye contact.

Her rage is quiet. “I’m not a fucking dog,” she grinds out, “and I won’t drink out of the dirt like one.”

Cassian is done. He’s so done with her shit and trying to hide why he cares so much. “You make it so hard to love you,” he whispers. 

His eyes bore into hers as she laughs bitterly. “You don’t love me.” She spits the words at him, crowding into his space when she picks up on his tense body language. “You don’t-“

“Why?” Cassian snaps, unstable and feeling like he’s staring the petite female in the eye. “Because you’re so unlovable Nesta?” His chest puffs out on his sharp intake of breath and he nudges her back. “Because you like nothing more than to crush everyone that comes near you under your heel. Fuck Nesta, why not lie down in the dirt, since that’s where you insist on throwing everyone you’ve ever cared about. Even Elain, like she’s muck on your shoe.”

“Do not speak of Elain.” Her snarl bounces off his hardened heart finally, barely able to penetrate the surface to the bleeding muscle within. 

“Why? You’ve cast her aside. Don’t play stupid Nesta, we both know you’re not. You want to kill yourself? Fine.” At the last word she visibly flinches so he presses on, gripping one of her delicate hands and places it against his chest. It’s hammering and heaving, he knows this is the end for them and his body feels like it’s being ripped apart, but at least he can save the others from some lengthy torment she’s clearly hellbent on dishing out. “Tell them. Walk into that townhouse and look your sisters in the eyes and tell them you’re ready to give up. Tell them you’re going to drink yourself to death with some stranger’s cock buried inside of you. Tell them so they stop hoping. So Elain doesn’t come running every time there’s a knock on the door with the false hope that you might be there. Stop being selfish and conveniently forgetting that we’re all hurting and broken in some horrible, unimaginable way. That you’re not the only one bleeding from the inside out.” 

They’re both struggling to stand now, knees so wobbly Cassian knows he has to ease them down now or they’ll hit hard enough to shatter something. Her hand has curled where he placed it on his tunic and the material anchors her to him. Cassian lets his forehead drop to hers and slowly lowers until they’re kneeling on the wet floor. 

The threat of tears is gone from her eyes but so is the threat of violence. He’s wrung her dry. He hadn’t been ready to stop but she’s got both hands in his hair right now, shuffling closer, the sound of glass grating on the floor. 

He wants to say her name. See her react to it, show some semblance of life besides quiet, quiet, quiet. But when he opens his mouth to say it she leans in and presses her lips to his. It’s a seeking, hungry kiss. Her teeth knock against his with the force of it and she’s hauling herself up by his hair, pain searing across his scalp so he wraps arms around her waist and holds her up. She’s taking, even after he’d thrown that selfishness in her face, she’s helping herself to whatever she wants, whatever might bridge that aching rift in her soul. Her tongue sweeps across his and it’s everything he’s ever wanted in the long years of his life but he’s not here to give her comfort, not ready to forgive when he’s done nothing but that for what feels like so long. 

A groan slips from his throat and he has to rip himself away. When he lets go she sprawls to the floor but she’s not reading what his eyes so readily say. Her long fingers are making quick work of the buttons down the front of her dress, baring skin he’s ached to touch. Cassian growls but his desire is absent. He shoves to his feet and lets the cruelest words he can think of spill from his lips. “Try spending some time down there for a little while, maybe then you’ll understand how it feels to be left in the dirt by someone who loves you. You know what it’s like to be kicked by those you hate, but your family now knows what it’s like to be spit on by those they love. Come back when you’re ready for help, or don’t come back at all.” 

Her despair is quiet too. 

\--  
It’s been three days and he’s still livid. Cassian shoves a shaking hand through his unbound hair, pacing the length of his bedroom in ground eating strides. He’s heard nothing about his scornful outburst the other day. Clearly Nesta hadn’t bothered to heed his words or Rhys would have told him something. Cassian’s family would not leave him in the dark. But nothing. She’d clearly said nothing. So he’s left feeling like an idiot, having meant every word no matter how hateful, and watched those words disappear into the air just wasted breath.

He’s angry beyond reckoning. Exhaustion weighs heavily on his tense body. Cassian gives in and sits on the edge of his bed, head cradled in his hands. Long, drawn out breaths soothe his straining muscles into some semblance of relaxation. 

The door bursts open, hinges rattling and knob hitting the wall with a loud crack. Cassian’s head snaps up as Nesta fails to so much as pause in her warpath. He’s got nothing left to wonder how she found his home or got in for that matter. No energy to put venom in his voice, instead whispering out a tired, “what do you want Nesta?” Almost puts his face back in his hands, the very picture of a defeated commander in front of this raging beast of a female. 

But she pushes his hands down and slaps him. 

Then his hands are tight in her own and she presses her face forward into his. “I’m sorry.” She might as well have punched him. Her words are firm but he’s still not sure he heard them. “I won’t say it again.” Nesta stares down at him, eyes steel, and shoves herself into his lap. “Kiss me you stupid prick.” 

His lips find hers in desperate demand, tongue sweeping in and fingers pressing into her jaw. She whines and pushes in closer, dress hitched around her thighs so she can straddle him. Cassian’s hands are at her knees, hips, back, drinking her in. 

“Nesta,” he says her name like a promise, whispered into the crook of her neck. She just twines her fingers through the long dark hair at the nape of his neck and tugs. Their lips crash together, mouths open, breathing each other in, tangling tongues. 

Her hips are rocking into his with a feverish intensity, pulling and twisting as she yanks his head back. “None of them were you.” His hips stutter at her words and he pulls her firm against his hardness. 

“Nesta please-“

“Fuck me.” She’s already pulling the dress over her head. Buttons clink lightly on the ground as they pop off the material, not meant to be removed with force, yanking her braid from where it’s wrapped around the crown of her head. 

Cassian’s growl is deep and he heaves her onto the bed. He makes quick work of her undergarments and she’s gloriously nude before him, splayed on his bedsheets. Her hands are everywhere at once, reaching, selfish, always so selfish. 

“I love you.” Cassian needs it hung out in the air between them before this happens. 

She nods with a firm dip of her chin and says in a sure voice, “You do.” Acknowledgement. Knowing. 

He fills his lungs slowly, breathing into the temporary calm. “You love me?”

Her eyes flick to his and down almost imperceptibly fast. But her voice is still solid as she says, “I’m working on it.” 

She might as well have said yes for the way Cassian’s chest swells and wetness threatens at his eyes. It’s the most he possibly could have expected from her, because she is struggling, needs help to get back to the best version of herself. She needs someone to help her cope with everything she has seen, and done, and endured. That kind of mental anguish could not be pushed away with some nice words or hugs. Platitudes would not take the memories of bodies strewn across battlefields. Kisses would not erase her father’s broken corpse from her nightmares. Love would not make her suddenly understand her racing mind that panicked at noises it never had before or trembled and stumbled into quiet despair. But it might help. 

Cassian drags his fingertips down the soft skin of her stomach, dipping into her navel and moving, moving, until they glanced across wetness. She’s pulling at his hair now, hips bucking up, seeking but Cassian stills her with a heavy palm to her hip and whispers, “tell me how to make you cum.” 

Nesta’s thighs tremble and clench. She grits out, “both. Two fingers, your mouth. Both, please Cass.” 

His fingers press into her slowly, savoring the wet heat, as he slides down her body and spreads her legs to make room for his broad shoulders. “Tell me what you want.” He murmurs against the soft skin of her thigh. “Tell me everything.” His head bows and Cassian flicks the tip of his tongue against her clit. 

Nesta grips his hair and moans. “You,” she gasps on an inhale, “all of you.” 

His pace increases she her words send such a sharp bolt of desire through him his hips buck into the mattress. He follows the roll of her hips effortlessly. Cassian’s eyes slip closed and he licks and sucks and nips, then again when a loud groan slips from her lips. He doesn’t know how long he’s there, fingers curling and twisting, always one step ahead of her stuttering hips, tongue dancing and wicked, incessant. It could have been minutes or hours, he would have gone for days, savoring her taste until she clenched around him and cried out her release. 

Nails scraped against his scalp as her back arched, curses spilling from her lips. Nesta’s head was thrown back and her hair fanned across his pillow, his fucking pillow. She clenched around his fingers and he growled low in his throat, the vibration causing her thighs to press harder into his shoulders, a shaky, wrecked laugh bubbling up from her, surprising them both. 

“Don’t stop.” She sounded wrung out and needy and Cassian didn’t miss a beat. Changing up his rhythm he began murmuring words of beauty and devotion in Illyrian against her clit, rumbling through his chest. Her hands clenched and she gave a hoarse cry with each one, her next orgasm tearing through her with startling speed. “Cassian, Cass, Cass, Cass.” His name. Over and over. His name in her voice. No fire or hate. Nothing but awe. 

Her eyes lowered to him and he shot to his knees, gathering her to him, hands pressed against her back as she rolled her hips along the erection straining his pants. Nesta whispered filthy things in his ear, ways he could take her, wreck her beyond the exhausted, gentled creature she’d become in his arms. 

Cassian shuffled back on the enormous bed until her back was against the tall headboard. Her tongue was tangling with his in a fiery dance and it took all of his control not to collapse as her hands pulled the laces of his trousers loose. She moved without hesitation, gripping his erection and stroking him once down the full length, swirling her palm against the head. He barked out her name and wrapped the wild hair that had escaped her braid around his hand, tugging her face up to meet his eyes. 

Her eyes were wide and dark, desire leaking from her pores even as exhaustion weighted heavy on her. But she wrapped her free arm tighter around his shoulders, molded her body to his and scraped her teeth over his collarbone. She was done talking. She’d given him so much tonight and she just needed him. 

Cassian braced one palm against the wall beside her head and pressed into her, cock sinking deep until there was no space left between them. He could do nothing but suck in jagged breaths for a moment, relishing the nails scraping down his back, skillfully avoiding the wings that had flared out to their full span, casting shadows over them. 

When he could open his eyes again, Cassian began to move. Slow lasted for mere moments as her heels drove into his back and she cupped his jaw in both her hands, kissing down into his mouth with everything she had left. His hips snapped forward, bed shaking as he reached up to grab the top of the headboard, leverage to pull himself forward harder, faster, anything to keep up with Nesta’s silent demands. 

They were both desperate. Seeking something from each other they couldn’t put into words. He’d fucked hard, dirty, nasty. He’d had women and men and both at the same time. Cassian had fucked from desire, from hate and anger and jealously, from boredom and excitement. But he’d never had to quell this beast raging up inside of him. Unstoppable and unconditional. He’d love her no matter what came next and knew he’d honor anything she asked him to do from this moment forth, even if it meant tearing himself apart to let her go. 

“I love you,” he says. Because he needs to say it in this moment. When he knows deep down that they’re mated, and she’s pushing back against the bond but he knows it’s there, with everything he has he knows. And he will never push it on her. He will never be the possessive, territorial male his instincts scream for because that’s not the male she could try to love. So he will wait and be part of her life if she will let him, and he’ll hope, hope that she will keep trying to love him. 

She’s crumbling in his hands. Her hips are pressing forward to meet each thrust, mouth roving his neck and hands moving hungrily. Sweat is causing bits of her hair to stick to her face, her eyes are fluttering shut, and she has never looked more beautiful. 

Cassian’s muscles flex as he pins her in place and stops thrusting to grind his hips against her, slow and filthy. Nesta is coming around him in a wet rush and her hands bruise against his bite riddled shoulders. He’s moving gently, working her through her orgasm, trying to stave off his own if only to indulge in her a little longer, but he’s crashing. He spills into her with a curse so nasty he can’t help but give a breathless chuckle. 

They come to a slow stop. Cassian sinks back to sit on his heels. Nesta is still seated atop him, straddling his lap and resting her whole weight along his chest and thighs. She hasn’t raised her face from where it’s buried in his neck and her body is rocking with small tremors. 

Cassian has to reach back and unhook her legs from around his waist. Pushing her back only far enough so he can lay down. He maneuvers them so he’s wrapped around the length of her, pulling her back to his chest and burying his nose in her hair. 

When their hearts are both beating to the same, gentle rhythm, Nesta’s hands grip his harder and she tucks her chin closer to her chest. “Can I stay here for a few nights?” she asks, voice uncharacteristically soft. 

Cassian forces his body to stay relaxed. He releases a heavy breath and pulls her almost painfully tight to him. “Of course,” he murmurs. “Stay with me. Stay.”


End file.
